


strength will find you sooner than you ever thought it would

by enemaofthestate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, wherein nothing is properly captialized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemaofthestate/pseuds/enemaofthestate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jack knows he'll never stop loving gabe, until he meets hanzo, and starts doubting that conviction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strength will find you sooner than you ever thought it would

**_i._ **

the world seems to fall apart at every touch these days, good or bad, and jack has taken it into his own hands to piece it all back together like the most ginger of card houses you'll ever see. stability like that needs a magician's hands, and he's here to wow the crowd.

and wow them, he does. he's the headliner, the sold out show, the gold star on a dressing room door. he's the magic wand that inspires and instills a sense of self and goodness. and of course, what good is a magician without his assistants? sexy, sure, but they're more of the white tiger type.

jack's first white tiger is his organization, there to protect and speak for those who can't. he's been gifted, given a platform upon which he can spread a peaceful word, a word of kindness to everyone, metal or flesh. this breathes life into him, gives his blue eyes the sparkle behind them that he'd once lost to the military, and reminds him to wake up every morning. someone out there needs him, someone's child is in danger, and he's going to make sure they stay safe.

jack's second white tiger; his right hand man, watching his six, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder in excitement (and sometimes comfort) when things unfold the way they're supposed to, when plan b never sees the light of day. gabriel and jack have been through hell and back, with chemicals and experiments shoved into their veins like lab rats. jack knows gabriel's screams, to the point of intimacy, and he can recall the day he'd decided that enough had to be enough.

_"the_ fuck _are you doing in there?!" the growled, angry question comes punctuated with a loud thud, a small crack as jack's fist hammers into the desk before him. his face is red and his heart is pounding, his breathing seeming to be in rhythm with the flickering florescent lighting over his head. somewhere, echoing down hallways and behind doors, gabriel cries to stop, in pain, and every second of it makes jack feel like he's going to erupt at any moment. he's immediately restrained after his outburst and the dented desk, his arms pulled behind his back, but his resolve isn't dampened, and the officer in front of him sighs and tilts his glasses down his face. jack's chest heaves, and if his blue eyes could kill..._

_"get morrison back in the chair. i don't have time to listen to this."_

_jack isn't bothered by this sentence. he allows himself to be carried away, down a hall and closer to the sound of gabriel's torture-in-progress. he can handle the pain, he can handle the tests and the tolerance experiments. he can't handle hearing gabriel's voice pierce his heart with every scream, and that's what he's fighting for these days._

when a magician loses his assistants, he can still perform the show. there's backups, there's other tricks. other ways to make people believe that what you're doing is real. but jack never thought to have backups, or thought to have other tricks. he never thought the day would come when he'd need them, and boy, did it ever. 

it's funny, in a sick way. the night before jack loses everything, he and gabriel are gifted with a night alone, in solitude. they're simple men these days, so a cup of hot coffee shared between the two of them is all they need to make them happy. there's laughing, and there's heart to hearts, until they're so tired, they fall asleep on one another in the common room couch. that's why it's funny, that's why it's fucking gross, when jack is cornered the next day in a way that he hadn't been expecting. to be set up, for months, days, sharing a room while they're tested and pushed until they can't be anymore, thrown into fights and expected to save the world, standing with their backs to each other and guns drawn, just to let it all culminate here. somewhere frozen and windy, where no one would find them for days. to never be given a chance to fix it, and you know, that hurts the most. jack would do anything for gabriel, he's killed for gabriel, and yet, here he is. buried under rubble and smoke and unsure if he still has all of his limbs, all because gabriel never thought jack cared enough. he tastes blood, is it his? jack hopes to god it is. because after this, he doesn't want to be alive anymore. the betrayal stings his tongue and the gash across his face, and it rips through his heart and stomach. jack tries not to throw up.

magic. what a fucking joke.

**_ii._ **

phase in. phase out.

where's gabe?

why can't he see anything?

jack manages to come to while he's being wheeled down a hallway, and there's a doctor shouting orders at her nurses. he wants her to be quiet, like that'll make the pain stop, and jack doesn't even know what kind of pain he means. the pain of losing gabe? the pain of the betrayal? the pain of the blood on his face, or worse, on his hands?

god, hospital florescent lighting is the worst. his splitting headache is so bad as it is, he doesn't need the slow blink of the white lights burning through his retinas. he needs to close his eyes right now, to sleep, to let go for a minute before he can worry about gabe again. he can feel it, down under his ribs, where his heart is building up a wall it had never had before. it hardens, it forges itself in steel, and the pain begins to subside. it's still a blessing, though, when his vision tunnels and he blacks out again.

loving gabe had been like loving a doll made of porcelain. not that gabe was fragile, but his commitment was certainly easy enough to break. to someone on the outside, jack had been walking on eggshells for the entirety of this relationship, but jack never saw it that way. gabe liked things in a very particular way, he liked things to be perfect, and he never tolerated any less. so every day, jack morrison, strike commander, would try to make gabe's day better in any way he could. he tried everything from having his favorite food at the base when he returned from a mission to shoving him into walls and letting gabe fuck the life out of him after a hard day. jack's devotion was never questioned, to the point of it becoming a point of contention when jack failed to secure a payload on a day when it should have been easy. and it was... but gabe had fallen behind. jack, as usual, had slammed fists on tables and defended himself with _no soldiers left behind,_ but angela had been the one to corner him after the debate broke.

"don't think i didn't notice, morrison."

_angela._ that's who the doctor is.

such a simple realization brings jack back to the surface and his eyes flutter, but the small action sends ripples of searing pain through his forehead and sinuses. he can barely groan in acknowledgement before angela is by his side, fussing over something on his forehead. the sudden impeding of his personal space makes him grunt, since words aren't something he can make yet, and she shoots him a look he's known well for years. 

"don't be dramatic, jack." her words are tired, and jack has to wonder how long she's been working on the two of them. she seems focused on what must be stitches in his forehead, and she's agitated when she turns her back to continue working.

"how long?"

"three days."

"... gabe," jack manages out, his voice hoarse and low, and angela's still got her back to him, leafing through what must be jack's file. his question makes her stop, and she takes a slow breath, setting his file down and turning slowly to face him. her eyes won't meet his, but she seems to find her resolve somewhere deep down, and while jack is already fearing the worst, she's straightening her shoulders and softening her gaze.

"we haven't found him yet."

love has a way of showing itself in the most unusual ways, especially if you're a person that doesn't like to show love, or even let yourself feel it that easily. gabriel reyes had been that person, closing himself off at every opportunity and shutting down all of jack's early attempts at trying to pull the door to his thoughts open. the door became a brick wall, and with it, strengthening jack's determination to take it down. jack became like a lost puppy, following gabe's every move in an attempt to make his day, his life better. a sharp hiss of _back off,_ uttered like a warning, had made jack try the exact opposite, deciding that if gabe didn't want his attention, then he wasn't going to get it. and sure enough, that had wound up being the right answer. where jack would normally smile at gabe before a mission, he'd focused on his parachute or his ammunition. where gabe had learned to expect arms around his waist, he's met instead with a quick wave, and it makes gabe's blood start to boil. the tables turn, and it leads to their first kiss, the first time gabe has to make a move. jack had found a secluded, high up watch point in gibraltar, and it's here where he'd come to watch the sunset for the last few days. a cup of coffee had always been in his hands, something he doesn't have a taste for much anymore, and on the third day, he'd been joined by gabe, who was gruffly wanting to know where jack had been. jack can still remember how he'd smirked at the question, how his tactics brought him exactly what he wanted, and how the smirk drew a frown from gabe. that was his first sign that gabe did care, and since those were few and far between, jack held onto that memory so tightly he felt it was one day going to break. the rest of the memory is unforgettable, sure (finally knowing how soft his lips had been, finally knowing what his tongue tasted like, finally inhaling his scent in a closeness he felt privileged to experience), but the proof of gabe caring had been worth holding so close that now... now, jack's steel heart is ready to let it go. or, he thinks it is.

jack leaves the hospital never knowing if gabe is found, and the fact that it's ripping him apart inside feels like a cruel torture. he's already made himself promise that he'll move on, he'll forget about gabe. he'll forget the first kiss under the full moon, and he'll forget about the bruises up his neck that he'd gotten familiar with examining in the mirror post-shower. he'll forget about the glances across the battlefield, the exasperated _thank you_ s that come from gabe when jack patches him up before sending him back out again, guns blazing, and he'll definitely forget about the ways he'd tried so hard to gain gabe's approval. even still, through all the promises of moving on, he's still here, he's still being eaten alive, full of an open-ended devotion that never got to say its goodbyes. gabe is likely dead, and with it, jack's love for anyone else.

**_iii._ **

"i thought you'd definitely be mad about this one, jack! what's changed your mind?"

the question comes from a chirpy and excited lena, perched neatly with her hands tucked under her thighs on his table as she watches jack move around the room. papers are strewn about the floor and tables, at lena's feet and in jack's hands. most of it's in rushed japanese with pieces of english, and jack makes a mental note to thank genji for this information later. it's proven useful for a lot of things, but most importantly it's been good for distracting jack from the thoughts of gabe that still swirl in his mind. it isn't often these days that he surfaces on jack's thoughts, but today, the ghost of him seems to be lurking around every corner. and maybe that's why he's thrown himself headfirst into the information on the second shimada.

"i don't care what a man's past says. all that matters is that he can shoot."

lena giggles, one of those that usually sets his nerves on fire, but he's a little too distracted to pay attention to her right now. at least, until she says, "is that why you're digging him up like a grave?"

jack stops, and if his eyes were visible, they'd likely betray his thoughts. if he'd thought today wasn't a "bad gabe day," as angela called them, then lena definitely made it one. his heart suddenly feels like it weighs tons, and he's given a harsh reminder of the drawbacks of having a steel heart. and, you know, maybe that's why he's chosen steel. gabe showed him that brick wasn't enough, and all it'd taken was a simple blast to his chest to break that wall down. he'll learn from gabe's mistakes. and if he needs to, god forbid, he can forge again, but brick is years of work for minutes of debris.

he's relieved when lena leaves, saying something about needing to call winston, because now he can sit down for a few moments. jack pulls the visor off with a small click and a release of hydraulics, setting it next to the stack of paperwork on the floor. he pinches the bridge of his nose as memories of gabe swim through his brain, flood his mind's eye and make him relive each painful second of the happiness they shared. it really isn't always this bad, but today seems determined to make him remember it. _remember why you're hardened, remember why you went from ivory to steel, jack, remember it._ those were gabe's words. those were his murmured reassurances when jack returns from a mission with the blood of innocents on his face and clothes, when he's fought to keep himself sane sometimes. it's a goddamn wonder he never came home with some form of ptsd.

when he comes out of his thoughts, eyes bloodshot and heart reinforced, his communicator blurts static into his ear, reminding him what he's doing at the old overwatch headquarters today. "soldier, hanzo shimada is here. should i send him up?"

just like that, it's gone. the heartache and the persistent memories are buried once again, under years of smoke and rubble and dirt and regrowth. he's not jack morrison anymore, he's back to being soldier: 76. he clicks the visor back into place over his eyes and gets to his feet, sighing at the amount of effort that had taken. god. fifteen years ago he'd have jumped at the chance to meet a new recruit. "i'm on my way down, angela. hold tight."

hanzo has some kind of arrogance about him that makes jack want to sock him in the jaw.

it isn't his fault, really, except that it definitely is. it's probably a result of being part of such a powerful family, or something. jack doesn't care. he knows everything about this man, whether he'll admit that it matters to him or not. one thing is for certain, he definitely can shoot. within minutes, he held the record for the fastest elimination of all the training bots. angela is impressed and so is jesse, and jack would be too, if his arrogance didn't remind him of the best thing that ever happened to him. he walks with the same attitude, with the same swagger that gabe had. he's a little more mysterious, sure, but he's got the same don't-touch-me look on his face that he always tried to kiss away from his ex-lover. 

jack hates his guts. he's about ready to call off the entire training exercise, when hanzo shouts something entirely japanese with the force and anger of something deep, something that feels beyond jack's understanding. to the shock of the assessors, twin dragons erupt, moving through the walls but obliterating the training bots in their way. the sound is deafening, and for a hot second, jack isn't thinking about gabe. he's thinking about the way hanzo's tattoos just lifted from his muscular arms, and the determination behind those dark eyes.

torbjörn breaks the stunned silence with loud clapping, laughing as hanzo turns sharply and departs the training room after a curt bow. they busy themselves with praise and comments of how impressive he had been, he's gotta be the best so far, i wonder if genji will be okay with it. jack doesn't hang around to hear this out, he doesn't want to hear about how great he is. he doesn't want to hear about hanzo, not today. he needs something else to bury himself in. the reminders are getting too large and too overwhelming. how is it even possible to find someone like this, someone so similar to the ghost in his past? he'd lived the last thirty years convinced that there could never be anyone like him. jack takes the stairs two at a time to return to his bunk for now, to get himself away and somewhere safe, where he can --

jack rounds a corner and is, suddenly, face-to-face with hanzo, who murmurs a small apology in japanese and moves around him with the grace of the dragons he'd just witnessed. every movement, jack notices, that hanzo makes, he makes for a reason. every step, every notched arrow, every bow of his head, has a purpose. jack turns as hanzo continues on his path he'd set before jack so brutally interrupted that plan, that purpose, watching him continue up a separate staircase.

their similarities aren't that close, he has to remind himself. gabe _was_ one of a kind. there could never be another one of him. no one even close. in fact, above him, he can hear arrows making their mark, a soft _thwap_ noise with each impact, but the footsteps are completely silent. something gabe was never good at. stealth wasn't his strong point. no, gabe preferred to run in and announce the arrival of death, or something stupid. jack always made fun of him for it. he sighs and throws an arm over his eyes, thinking that there has to be a better way to handle his bad gabe days. mulling over the good times never helped anybody. angela always said he needed closure. he just thinks he needs a shot of whiskey.

**_iv._ **

no matter how jack's heart feels, and no matter how he feels, he has a team to run. it's a blessing, it's something to help balance the ever-present weight in his chest, when his first white tiger comes back. his team would always be there for him when gabriel wouldn't be, and the proof of that is standing in front of him now. not only does he have his team, but he has even more love and support, from all kinds of people who just want to see him be happy. angela and lena fret over him and ask if they can bring him anything, let him know they're there if he wants to talk, and he always intends to take them up on it, but he never does. zenyatta offers to meditate with him, and that's a really generous offer, too. it seems, while he's struggling with moving on from his past, that the only member of his team that hasn't done so much as introduce themselves is hanzo. not that jack cares-- he doesn't. he has more important things on his plate like the next lineup of missions, the looming threat of another omnic crisis, and training the new recruit to worry about much else. and, thankfully, that includes gabe. there's been a rumor circulating about a new foe, determined to execute overwatch agents, but he hasn't shown his face in a while and jack is going to cross that bridge when he gets to it. in fact, things seem to be looking up for the soldier. his jaded attitude about the past remains, but now more than ever is he determined to put together a team that wants to do some good. his assistant is back, and with just one under his wing, he can finally start to build up the magic again, this time, with a new audience. jack has learned to find small smiles in the conversations with his teammates again, and he even hears comments about how morale is boosting. jack certainly doesn't think so-- a fancy-ass vigilante team, ex-government? there's nothing on there that spells 'good,' but he's willing to go along with it for now.

jack is on training duty, responsible for making sure the new recruit knows how to follow basic combat maneuvers. if he's familiar with the basics, they move on to more difficult sparring matches, and eventually real missions. trust must be established, and jack is the perfect one to test that trust with. that steel heart of his, not without its dents, has to crack just a little to let someone new in. every new face is a new crack in the metal. some are larger than others (angela has a nice little space carved out for herself), while some are barely scratches. those are the ones he's out to test. even still, even after this long, no one has managed a place in his heart as large as gabe. and that's how it'll stay. at least, that's what he tells himself. training is easy. hanzo is light on his feet, and his voice is low and clear, making giving orders something he'll excel at. jack still can't get over the whole _dragon thing,_ it's absolutely devastating and he knows it'll come in handy sometimes.

outside of combat, hanzo is already making friends. jack tells himself that's a good thing. he always likes to be jesse's shadow, sniping anyone who might pose a threat to the cowboy. they seem to always be close to one another, and jack is learning to like the sound of hanzo's target practice above his head at night. there are a few nights when that doesn't happen, when the room above is silent, but that isn't often, and every now and again, hanzo has jesse over for binge watching tv shows. jack reminds himself nightly that eavesdropping through the ceiling is _really_ creepy, but how is he supposed to avoid it? it's like being a fly on the wall, listening in on hanzo's moments when he thinks he's alone. again, should be creepy. kind of isn't.

on a night where the idea of eavesdropping is a little much for him and he's already caught up on the previous night's baseball game, when he can't bring himself to stay cooped up behind this door anymore, jack gets up and wanders the floor, searching for some kind of silence, some relief from this cabin fever. his mind is pushing, shoving thoughts of gabe away like a tide, rising and falling, threatening to spill black oil over the white sandy beaches in his mind. he's keeping them at bay, though, and the usual weight in his chest is lighter today. 

that is, until he catches a whiff of gabe's cologne. 

oh, _fuck._ where is it coming from? he hasn't smelled that deep musk in years.. he has to be imagining it. but it's so close...

jack follows the scent to what used to be gabe's room, and he immediately bristles when he sees the door is open, and someone's inside, going through gabe's things. he can hear the rustling of boxes and moving objects, sighs of exasperation and grunts from picking up heavy boxes. this isn't okay. who told this person they were allowed in there? no one's allowed in there. the thick scent of gabe's cologne gets stronger as he moves closer to the room, and with it, the drops of oil that've been threatening his mind finally make shore. jack's hands are shaking, and he can't stop himself from pausing in the doorway.

"hey!" he barks, his trembling fingers hovering over his visor. he's two fucking seconds away from activating it, from blowing this asshole straight to hell, and god, that anger only gets worse when hanzo turns to face jack.

there's flashes in front of his eyes, flashes of gabe in this room, perched on the bed, leafing through books or files on a target; flashes of the last night they spent together here; flashes of gabe's nightstand, now darkened and empty, but then covered in half read books and bookmarks; flashes of gabe finally asking jack where he's been; flashes of his cologne, holding gabe close; and all of it manifests itself here, now, when jack's free hand balls into a fist. "you'd better have a good reason for being here," he growls, and he's taking slow, advancing footsteps.

hanzo's response makes it clear that he hadn't been expecting company, but he's careful not to betray his feelings as he carefully, tenderly closes the box he'd been looking through, rising to his feet. "i'm sorry, soldier. i've heard stories of him, of gabriel reyes. i heard what happened, and curiosity got the best of me."

the answer is so innocent that jack can't be angry anymore. at least, not at him. the anger is still there, his heart racing under his ribs, and he manages a rough, "get out of here," and hanzo departs the room with a swift bow.

the incident weighs rough on the soldier's shoulders, but he can't get hanzo's words out of his mind. he heard about what happened in zürich? who told him? how had their story gone? what had they told hanzo? was it all true? or had there been some bullshitting to cover up the parts about their relationship? it shouldn't bother him this much, but that day in his life had been so incredibly traumatizing and overwhelmingly life changing that it's eating him alive not knowing if the story was told correctly. it had happened for a reason, too. gabe never felt like jack cared enough, and jack never bothered to ask. that's the root of it all, he knows now. to ease his constantly racing mind, he confers with angela (who said she hasn't told hanzo anything), and her advice is to talk to hanzo himself. tell him what happened leading up to the event, and how it had changed everything for him. the idea shouldn't be so appealing, but maybe he doesn't have a choice. jack doesn't like to open up about his past, much less to some ninja with a dark-mysterious-stranger complex, but he's realizing that could be the only way to end this anxiety.

it's jarring when hanzo kindly offers to make jack tea after he declines the coffee, then asks his incense preference. jack doesn't have one, so hanzo lights one that fills the room with a light, flowery scent. this is almost too much, he realizes. all of those times when he's sure hanzo have their similarities, well, they go right out the window. gabe would have hated this. he'd have commented on how bad the incense smelled, how the tea's too sweet--

shut that door, right now.

jack shoves away the thoughts of his dead lover, and instead tries to focus on the tea in his hands, in the smallest cup he's ever seen. it makes for a strong drink, though. hanzo finishes preparing the room for his guest and seats himself on the floor opposite jack, his legs crossed with a grace that makes jack feel like he's too big for this table. his guard is beginning to drop; the tea is comforting and the incense has a hint of jasmine. all of this is new to him-- he's used to his teammates being wildly different, sure, and even genji had his own similar habits, but without a human body, he supposes this might not all be something the other shimada partakes in.

the teacup in his hands feels smaller by the minute.

"now, soldier, what can i do for you?"

-

deep breathing, in through his nose, out through his mouth. try to take it slowly, but it won't come slowly, will it? his chest heaves, wracks his body in the form of rough coughs, and he feels like he's drowning. is there smoke? it has to be smoke. something's burning. jack's mind races with thoughts of his teammates and getting them out on time. who set the building on fire? where had it come from? jack's soldier training kicks in, though he's blinded by what has to be smoke, though he can't breathe. he holds his breath instead, gasping in what little fresh air he can find and closing off his windpipe. next, find the source of the fire. he's in bed, right? he can't orient himself, unsure of which way is up and where the suffocation ends. why can't he see anything? the smoke doesn't smell like it should be that thick. jack frantically begins feeling around him, searching for the blankets of his bed or where the mattress ends, but he can't find it. everything he touches is cold, hard, unforgiving. somewhere through the smoke, he can make out a sky, the clouds, darkening with the burning around him, and he realizes he can't move. he's trapped, save for the one free arm, he's trapped under rock, fuck-- no, not again, not this again, not this day. anything but this day. jack is positive he's going to die here, and what confirms that thought is the looming, damning sense of dread and gabe's thick, slow voice, rasping into the burning air.

"say goodbye to it all, jack."

\-- jack suddenly wakes, jolting in place and moving to sit upright so he can confirm his surroundings. this room isn't familiar either, and something smells different. his soldier's instincts are still there, pushing at his subconscious, so he starts to get out of the bed he's in, trying to find his way back to something tangible. is this real? is gabe real?

"leaving so soon, soldier?"

the question is posed by hanzo, and the puzzle pieces fall into place so quickly for jack, like a rock slide, that he has to sit back down again. it was just a dream... a nightmare. he hasn't had one of those in a long time. his breathing slows but it's going to take a minute for his heart rate to calm down, so he lays back down and pinches the bridge of his nose. zenyatta had taught him some exercises for grounding, for finding reality again, so he starts to run through them. this is hanzo's room. he'd come here to set the story straight, and somewhere after that, he'd fallen asleep. he passed out with his visor on? he feels bad for this. he'd just wanted to make sure hanzo understands, knows why gabriel isn't with them anymore, not make a fool out of himself here.

"sorry," jack admits with a hint of remorse, "didn't think i was so tired."

"you weren't," hanzo says, setting his own teacup back down on the table and rising to snuff the incense. "jasmine is what i use to induce sleep. i'm sorry i didn't warn you."

jeez. what a misstep. still, jack can't be too angry when he's just had a nightmare in hanzo's room. "why didn't you wake me?" he grumbles, lifting a knee to rest his elbow on. his mind is cloudy, swarming with thoughts of that stupid flashback, and when he looks up, he starts when he sees how close to him hanzo is sitting. he hadn't even seen him move away from the incense.

"you looked like you needed it, soldier." jack can't argue with that. "thank you for telling me your story. it feels good to hear it straight from you. i'm... sorry you had to lose him in such a brutal form. i can relate."

jack relaxes his shoulders. of course... hanzo _would_ understand. the rock slide of memories is replaced by a waterfall of relief, and he offers a half shrug. "it could have been a lot worse, i guess."

jack and hanzo spend the rest of the night like this, seated on the same bed, under the same sheets to keep warm, trading stories of their hardships, how they'd lost people they cared about. jack lost his lover, and hanzo, until recently, his brother. to lose someone to your own hand, though... jack can't imagine that pain. the conversation shifts and changes from loss, to finding anew, to having your own support systems, or white tigers. it feels familiar, this kind of bonding. these kinds of mumbled apologies for bringing up loss, and these kinds of laughs, these kinds of sleepy yawns. jack even finds himself removing his visor, setting it aside so he can really, really talk, and that new exposure brings forth unsure glances from uderneath a brow.

waking up the next day in the same bed, his shoulders slumped against the headboard while hanzo sleeps by the window, wrapped up tightly in a spare blanket, is a pleasant surprise to jack. he'd like to stay like this for a while.

jack doesn't realize how these things happen anymore. it's been so long since he's felt affection outside of platonic, that he doesn't know anymore how these things can sneak up on you in such a way. it starts with this, with heart to hearts, with gentle but deep conversation, sharing moments of reflection and relation. how many ways has jack counted that he's loved gabe? too many. but none of them felt like this, because no two loves are ever the same, and maybe that's the reason why jack doesn't realize what he's started.

**_v._ **

it still hasn't hit jack, at least not yet, that the scratch hanzo made on his heart is much larger than a scratch. it's quickly becoming a hole, a dent, a crack, something _new_ that he hasn't had to deal with in almost two decades. maybe that's why he doesn't recognize it yet. it's a response he's trained himself to ignore, to just sort of overlook and handle it later, but later has never come. and this time, it's too late to push it off until "later" by the time he catches it.

and when he catches it, god, does it destroy him. for the last who-knows-how-long, jack has been used to loving gabe, and no one else. there's no one else, to him, in the world that's worthy of jack's attention and affections. and maybe gabe was a shitty place to put it, sure. loving gabe had been like loving broken glass and mountain tops; beautiful, but unforgiving. rough and maybe not something you wanted to get too close to. but jack did. he'd always wanted to get close to gabe, until he couldn't get close enough, until he couldn't be farther away, until gabe decided to crush jack between his fingers. so this? this new feeling of maybe reopening that wound for someone else to try and rot away? no fucking thank you.

the realization hits when he notes that it's been a few days since he's seen hanzo. and he... misses him? he guesses. sure. that's what it is. the tidal wave of immediate fear and distaste and anger at himself is overwhelming, but he doesn't let it show, and instead makes himself a vow. he has to reforge his heart. he's been crushed, destroyed by one lover as it is, and letting in a second one is just a disaster waiting to happen.

jack is a disaster waiting to happen. exposing someone else to that isn't a great idea.

it's kind of funny, the way jack is already feeling betrayed by hanzo, in some way that hasn't manifested itself yet. he hasn't hurt the soldier yet, but he will. everyone always does, in the end. so jack decides to cut that shit off before it even starts. the only person to ever hold his heart will be gabe. bottom line. 

and god, poor hanzo, he's trying. the efforts are there. one night, he slides a note under jack's door asking jack to meet him on the roof at midnight, and jack doesn't go. he stays in his room, while hanzo sits on the roof with tea for two, alone, after hand selecting the tea jack had enjoyed the last time they'd spent time together. he doesn't go back inside until one in the morning; jack can hear his footsteps as he passes by the door. there's a pause, and jack wonders if he's going to knock, and he really hopes he doesn't. if he's hurt, jack won't be able to hold back the guilt of his actions. but hanzo continues down the hall, and jack sighs heavily, feeling like there's a weight on his chest.

_remember the price of forging a steel heart, jack._

jack keeps his distance. he doesn't bring up the note, he doesn't bring up the stood-up date, and he certainly doesn't bring up the night they'd spent together. he talks of missions and missions only, keeping things squared and... awkward. he can see it, too, and it almost makes it hurt more. hanzo's eyes light up when jack approaches, just for it to be snuffed out by the stiff talk of missions. it hurts to hurt him, honestly, but he can't do anything about that now. he has to protect himself first, because if he can't keep himself sane, then he loses his team, too. he can't live without at least one of his white tigers by his side; the time spent without them both was torture enough. so, sorry, hanzo. jack has to come first. wasn't that what zenyatta always told him? take care of and protect yourself, because that's how you find true happiness. that's what jack wants to believe more than anything else, but watching the pain in hanzo's expressions as time passes and jack pushes him away even further doesn't feel like happiness.

but it's the price he has to pay to keep his team together.

angela decides to pull jack out of it. she can tell what he's doing from a mile away and she's not going to stand for it. absolutely not. jack's depriving himself. she can tell, and she says as much.

"you've lost it this time, mercy."

"you don't have to be so stubborn, jack. let him in. it could be good for you. when was the last time you dated someone?"

jack is sitting with slumped shoulders on a barstool in her lab, one foot on the floor with the other propped up on the silver bar, arms crossed. if she could see his eyes, they'd be rolling pretty hard. she'd known better than anyone what gabe's betrayal had done to him, so she should also know how letting hanzo in is an awful idea. apparently not. her brow is furrowed as she moves around the room, busy with her work, almost irritated that jack is sitting in her space. there's new recruits on the way in, an australian bunch that she's heard a lot about, and preparing for their arrival is going to take some fireproofing.

"how long it's been doesn't matter. i'm not ready to let that happen again. you weren't there to see the look in gabe's eyes."

angela sighs and stops what she's doing, setting down her current work to turn and face jack. "listen to yourself, jack. you sound like a broken record. you've been saying these things for twenty years. when will you be ready? when will you move on and allow yourself to be happy again? it's clear that you continue to make yourself miserable with thoughts of gabe, and i do hate to be this way, jack, but _gabe is dead._ he isn't going to come back, and you aren't going to be with him again. so, do us all a favor, and please move on." her tone, starting with irritation, has ended on a softer note, sounding more worried than annoyed. "go talk to hanzo. i'm sure if you tell him what's been going on, he'll listen. he's good at that."

_i know,_ jack doesn't say.

angela's harsh truths sit on jack's chest like his heart often does, heavy and reinforced with steel and honesty. she's his best friend for a reason, and he knows, deep down in the place she's carved out for herself, that what she's said is true. he isn't allowing himself to move on. but to what end? protection for himself? what good is a team with a leader that isn't willing to be happy anymore? it seems like a self fulfilling prophecy.

it's quiet in angela's lab, save for the small clinking sounds of glass on glass and the occasional curse from the doctor as she focuses intently on her new fireproof finisher for the training bots. it's nice. it's familiar. this is what he's used to. this is what the old days of overwatch had been like, staying comfortable with his friends while they worked. back then, he used to work alongside them, helping angela identify slides (not that he'd been any good at it), helping winston figure out the problems with his shields. it brings back a wave of memories, and while gabe is at the center of most of them, that isn't what he's focused on for once. he's thinking about himself, how happy he'd been, how he'd let himself love and be loved. 

and god, hanzo. what a pure force of nature. if loving gabe had been like broken glass and mountain tops, hanzo is like wet paintbrushes and the fluid motions of the tides. he pushes and pulls on jack, giving and taking away, tossing him around like he's caught in a rip tide. but it has to be the most wonderful rip tide he's ever been trapped in. finally, her lesson seems to sink in, and he slides off of the stool with a new kind of resolve.

"i'll be back in a few."

angela has no response, but she smiles from the corner of her mouth as jack leaves.

jack takes the stairs two at a time to make his way to the barracks, and he removes his visor with a click- _hiss_ before knocking on hanzo's door. angela had been right. hanzo is a good listener, and jack feels awful for the way he's treated him. maybe if he can just explain it, tell him where he's coming from and how he's trying to protect himself, maybe he'll understand and be willing to take it slow. that's all jack really needs, he sees now, is time. time to get used to the idea of dating again, time to get used to--

jesse mccree answers hanzo's door, and jack feels the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. before he can say anything, hanzo pulls the door open wider, and it's clear by the state of the two of them that he's interrupted... _something._ hanzo's hair is loose and messy, jesse's shirt has just been thrown on. their cheeks and lips are red, and their hands touch ever-so-slightly on the doorframe. jack's stomach immediately feels like it's going to be sick, and his hands start to shake, his head starts to spin.

"can i help ya with somethin', soldier?" comes jesse's thick drawl, and jack has to hold himself back from clocking him in the cheek. he reminds himself of his training, and he takes a deep breath before standing upright. jack looks between them, and he hopes that the anger isn't obvious on his face. hanzo's own expression spells dismay, so maybe it is.

"mercy needs help fireproofing the training room and the bots," he says, his voice short, "didn't mean to interrupt." his tone is heavy with venom, and hanzo is already stepping out of the door as jack turns on his heel to go... somewhere. anywhere but here. hanzo is calling his name, and somewhere behind him jesse is asking what the problem is. hah, jack can answer that one.

"there is no problem," he shouts over his shoulder, where his leather jacket is feeling awfully tight. there really isn't a problem. not anymore. the trash is taking itself out.

god, it serves him right. opening up the crack in his heart only spelled disaster. he'd told mercy, he told her that this was a bad idea, that he'd just get hurt again. the moment he's ready to trust again, to think about maybe dating again, and this happens. the crack hanzo had made in his heart was only there to drive a stake into it, and now jack's learned his lesson for the second time. if you can't get burned, then you don't fucking play with fire.

the new recruits, however, seem to have no problem with fire. jack meets them the next day, and while they're crazy as hell, at least they can do some damage. one of them is taller than jack, who's already towering, but you'd never know it by the way he hunches over all the time. not like jack can blame him, he carries a goddamn tire with a motor inside it on his back everywhere he goes. the other is the strong silent type, something jack can relate to, and he regards him as some kind of kindred spirit. they need training, but they have potential, and for once, jack is ready to help train them. anything to preoccupy himself. he has to think about anyone but hanzo or jesse, anything but the way the two of them had been so breathless when jesse answered the door. seriously, jack, think about anything else. 

they introduce themselves as junkrat and roadhog, but their files say jamison and mako. jack teaches them basics, and they pick it up fast enough. when it comes time for combat maneuvers, it takes some more work, so he works with them one-on-one. he comes out of one training session with jamison covered in burns and torch marks, something he laughs about with angela, until he catches hanzo's eyes in the doorway. 

oh... no. oh, no. not this, not now. this can't happen here. but jack has learned his lesson, remember? hanzo's moved on, met someone else. decided to pursue that instead. and he isn't going to let his emotions control him anymore. so jack, when he's finished talking to angela about jamison's progress, does just that. jack walks just past hanzo, his shoulders and his jaw set in place with pointed avoidance.

"you cannot ignore me forever, jack."

"i can sure as hell try."

-

jack would be lying if he said he hadn't let jesse take a shot to the shoulder intentionally. because he definitely had, and he made it clear, too. a sarcastic "whoops, my bad," had been jack's response in the training environment, and angela was there in a matter of moments to patch up the wound. of course, her actions hadn't come without a stare that could kill. she'd already lectured him about this, how he's acting like a child now, someone who can't have his favorite toy. the only reason jack had been offended by that was the way she'd referred to hanzo as something as disposable as a toy. he'd been so much more than that. he'd been the first person outside of angela to listen and not just wait for his turn to speak. the first person to actually care about jack after his... experiences.

until jesse snatched the tablecloth out from underneath him. maybe jack hadn't been the magician at all this whole time-- maybe the rival show at the theater across town had been jesse's all along. maybe hanzo, his desired audience, had been more enticed by the tickets that were easier to obtain, or something. jack's just about done with this stupid metaphor, anyway. the proof is in the writing. hanzo had needed someone more emotionally available and that person hadn't been jack. he's not sure if it'll ever be him, honestly. not with how damaged his heart is now. it's thick, the detail is obscured, and he's got so many thorns and cracks in it now. how could anyone want it? there's so much younger, better people out there capable of loving so much deeper and harder than jack can give now. can he blame hanzo? no.

but he can blame mccree. stupid fucking cowboy.

okay... maybe he is being a little childish. but there's no way in hell he's even going to think about going down that road again. he needs to take time to let the wounds heal, and by then, maybe hanzo and mccree will be married, or something. god knows his heart has the healing speed of molasses. 

the new developments of hanzo's love life definitely have jack in some kind of confused limbo. he's so used to being upset over gabe that being upset over someone else is jarring. angela has taken to not talking to jack about all of this until he talks to hanzo, and he's not doing that anytime soon, so he's left to mull over his own bullshit emotions by himself.

and god, what bullshit they are. he's a mess of conflicting feelings, and it's manifesting. he's missing easy shots, he's forgetting crucial training points and least fortunately of all, gabe is swimming back to the surface of his thoughts again. not so much gabe himself, but rather, the sting of the betrayal when he'd finally lost him. sitting with broken bones, trapped under pieces of their zürich base, knowing he'd die here, alone, loveless. gabe's body was never found, either, and that makes it worse. what if he's still there, in zürich, left for nature to reclaim? the thought sends shivers down his spine, so he changes his tune and starts thinking of something else. what else is there for him to think of?

oh, right, the other kind of betrayal, from hanzo. the kind where he's not good enough or something for the shimada brother. jack contemplates asking genji for help, but that feels like an equally bad idea. like he isn't going to tell hanzo. the idea is brushed away, and jack is left to his own devices once again. he's starting to mull ways to keep himself busy, maybe see if there's a solo mission he can take on, but just as he's about to try that route, there's a small knock on his door. jack doesn't want to answer it. if it's angela, she'll tell him to get his shit together. if it's hanzo, jack will tell him to fuck off, because he has better things to do, anyway. like jesse.

so imagine jack's surprise and anger when it's, in fact, jesse that standing with his thumbs hanging from his belt buckle. the wave of adrenaline comes rushing back to him, and that familiar stab in his chest makes him want to throw up. his stomach is turning, his hands are shaking as he tries to hold them back from decking jesse (again), and his ears burn red. the rip tide that hanzo has had him tumbling around in, trying not to drown, has just gotten worse, and this time, jesse is the storm overhead that always makes for rough waters. 

"soldier. can we talk about this for just a second?"

no. no. absolutely not.

"if we have to."

so jesse takes it upon himself to invite himself inside, pulling his fingers away from his waistband and out of the belt buckle to push the door open. god, jack hated that thing. how cocky did you have to be? jack's anger finally begins to get the better of him and he starts to slam his door, but jesse catches it with his foot, and wedges it open again. jack's getting close to being infuriated.

"don't make this harder than it has to be, jack," he mumbles, and jack picks up on a hint of sadness in his voice. what's happened in the time that jack's been trying to decipher his own emotion? what's hanzo done? if he hurt jesse because of jack... well, that's. new. jack relaxes just slightly and opens the door, but he won't look at jesse. which seems just as well, because jesse won't look at jack as he steps over the threshold. "hanzo hasn't spoken to me since."

he doesn't have to say since what, jack knows. they all know, probably. the entire fucking base. "well, i don't see how that's my problem," he growls, voice low. and maybe that's not the best thing to say, but jack is still like a wounded animal. he's going to lash out until it's better. "he hasn't spoken to me, either. but you two seem to be doing more than talking, these days."

the sarcastic comments get to jesse. his cheeks redden and he pulls his (stupid) hat off, but he's more determined now. his eyes and jaw set, and he lifts a hand to gesture in exasperation. "jack, god dammit, you're so blind. hanzo's only ever wanted you. he's only ever thought about you and talked about you. he doesn't come near me because all he talks about if he does is _you._ " this... is news to jack. oh... what has he done?

finally, the sea, hanzo's tides are tossing and turning and fighting back while tropical storm jesse rips apart jack's shining beaches. he really had been blind. the tide doesn't destroy a beach, the storm does. the storm blows the wind, brings debris ashore, drives people away. all the ocean can do is respond, all the beach can do is hold on tight and hope for the best when it's all said and done. this isn't even mentioning gabe's fucking oil spill. jack inhales slowly, and when he lets it out again, he has a new perspective. "you've ruined everything for me," he murmurs, but it's without malice this time. he isn't out to hurt jesse. but he has to know. "you have no idea what it took for me to get to where i am." 

"you're still fucking blind, soldier. hanzo isn't why i'm here."

what? "then what good are you doing here?"

"gabe's still alive."

**_vi._ **

at first, jack is convinced that jesse is doing this to drive the dagger deeper, to twist the knife and make all of this worse for him. so he rolls his eyes. "you're full of shit, mccree. gabe died in zürich."

jesse's expression, however, is unwavering, and he says, "it's bullshit, jack. it's been covered up. he's alive, and he's scratching off overwatch agents one by one."

the calm before the storm is such an underrated phrase. it can make seconds feel like decades, and that's where jack is, right now. in the seconds before the wave of realization hits him, he lives a thousand lifetimes. he sees a life where gabe hadn't treated him like garbage, he sees a life when gabe really died in zürich. he sees all the times gabe's kissed him first. he sees his own hands, covered with blood, _gabe's blood._ the wave is coming, he can feel it, the realization of the truth that jesse is speaking, and jack suddenly really, really needs to throw up.

jack flings his visor to the side, and it hits the wall with a crack. he turns and makes his way to the other side of his bedroom, where he heaves, and he's finally, finally sick, ridding himself of all of the turmoil in his stomach that's threatened to turn him inside out. he's always thought that finally throwing up would make him feel better when it's over, but he doesn't. he feels worse. he can't stand up straight, and when he tries to turn around, he wavers and nearly topples. he lets jesse stabilize him and get him seated, because he can't think of anything else going on around him. he's deaf to anything else jesse's saying. his ears are ringing, the room feels far away.

when jack finally passes out, jesse's holding his head.

_"mira!"_

a shout from gabe wakes jack, jolts him out of his unconsciousness, brings him back up to the surface. he hasn't been out very long, jesse still has a hand on his cheek, gently tapping it to try and bring him around. when jack's eyes flutter, jesse stills, and jack can tell he's struggling to find words. so jack fills the silence for him.

"get the fuck out of gibraltar."

angela is his next target. who else has known? she had to have. she's got a part in this, jack knows it. the perfect angel has her flaws, and jack has known for a while about her ability to revive the dead. but according to her, it hadn't been perfected until years after gabe's death. who the hell had she been practicing on? her response is silence, a choked sound from deep in her throat, and a tear runs down her cheek when she finally faces him, but jack isn't here to watch angela cry. he's here to get answers, and the fact that she has none is all jack needs. she's done her part. 

jack is so _tired._ once the shock wears off and he can hear things besides just a ringing noise in his ears, he's tired. that's all it boils down to. he keeps hearing gabe's barked orders in spanish and he wonders if his voice still sounds the same. angela had tried to tell him what he's like now, but jack can't hear it anymore. he doesn't want to hear anymore excuses form anyone. jack remembers zenyatta's grounding exercises again and, okay, yeah, let's try those. he's jack morrison. he lost gabriel reyes twenty years ago. he almost got over him. he really wants to try things with hanzo, but he can't think about that right now. gabe has come back from the dead. or he was never dead. or something. what part of this is real anymore? he feels like he's wandering around in the dark, walking into spikes that gut him every time he makes a wrong turn. the tides have turned, and where is hanzo for all of this?

hanzo is _here._

night falls and jack has to go outside to be alone. too many people are trying to talk to him about this and he can hear people whispering about it as if he's not there, as if he can't hear them. he needs silence, he needs peace, and he needs to decide what the hell he's going to do next. if gabe is alive, he never... never once tried to find jack. that hurts him so deeply, it's almost worse than the fact that he'd tried to kill him in the first place. all of these things, this all points to the fact that gabe never cared at all. he'd never once tried to care about jack. he never wanted to make things work.

sigh.

jack slides down the outside wall and sits with one leg up, the other outstretched. gibraltar's night sky is expansive, and it's a sky he's familiar with. he hasn't smoked since he joined the military, but now seems like a better time than any to start back up again. it's not like it can damage his lungs anymore, anyway. jack fishes in his pocket for a lighter, something he carries out of habit more than actual usefulness, and he has to bypass a fortune cookie fortune to get to it. he ends up pulling them both out of his pocket, and the fortune is so, _so_ topical that jack almost laughs when he reads it.

_strength will find you sooner than you ever thought it would._

"i did not know you smoked."

it's hanzo.

of course it is.

jack acknowledges this without any kind of real emotional response. relief, maybe. the trauma today has taken on him is outweighing his need to be angry at hanzo anymore. besides, jesse mostly made up for what he'd done wrong by coming clean. it hadn't been an easy truth to swallow, but it was still the truth, and jack respects that. hanzo seems to be the only one on the base that has an outside perspective, and jack almost feels bad. hanzo's never had a chance to get to know the real jack, the one that isn't dealing with emotional bullshit twenty four seven. he wants to fix that, but he doesn't know if he can right now.

"i don't," he murmurs, but there's still a cigarette between his lips, one that he's struggling to light. _flick. flick. flick. flick._ it eventually catches, and the orange glow is a stark contrast to the darkness around them. "but i kinda need it tonight."

hanzo seats himself next to jack and a silence falls between them. it's comfortable, not as awkward as their conversations have been. jack's still thinking about gabe, and he wonders if hanzo can tell. or if he just knows. jack realizes, with the impact of getting hit by one of jamison's mines, fuck, this is what he'd gotten so mad at hanzo for in the first place. for being preoccupied with someone else. pot, meet the damn kettle. jack takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales upwards, letting the smoke curl away and dissipate into the air. nearby is the watchpoint, up high, where jack and gabe had shared their first kiss. how cruel, this life. he wants to lean into hanzo's form, to prop himself up against him, but he can't bring himself to get close to him. jack feels like a plague. he hurts everyone he comes near, and these days his life hasn't been too good. tainting hanzo with the same black touch isn't something he wants to do.

but hanzo, bless him, leans into jack, like he's reading his thoughts. the two sigh in unison, and jack pulls again from his cigarette. maybe he should put it out. hanzo probably isn't a fan. 

"how do you feel?" come the next set of gentle words, and jack feels like the worst person alive. he's such a mess, and here's hanzo, dressed as usual with hair styled to perfection. perfectly organized, perfectly touched by grace, and then there's jack with old tearstains on his cheeks and smoke in his lungs, nothing but some shitty fortune in his pocket. how does he feel? he feels like shit. but having hanzo here seems to be numbing the pain.

"i don't know," he says, but he does know. he just doesn't want to think about it right now. this late in the day, he's kind of coming to be at peace with gabe's current... not-death. "the pain turned into anger. i got mad. i made angela cry." ouch, punch in the gut. "but... it's moving to joy. so maybe now i'm good." jack manages something he hasn't seen in a long time-- a soft smile. he moves closer to hanzo, and he's suddenly aware that his heart is pounding in his chest. this is a new kind of nerves. he's suddenly aware of hanzo, of how close he's sitting to jack, of the way his hair smells of jasmine incense.

"joy?" hanzo doesn't understand, and why should he? he begins to study jack's expression, searching for evidence of lies or distress, and when he sees none of it, his eyes seem to relax. jack doesn't dare speak a word, for fear of saying the wrong thing, and he wants hanzo to be the next one to speak. but hanzo doesn't speak.

instead he lifts a hand to cup jack's jaw, running over his five o'clock shadow, thumbing his bottom lip. jack can feel his hands shaking. "i must admit... i was not expecting you to say that. not today, of all days." jack would be happy to clarify, if he could think properly, but he can't. hanzo's fingers on his skin feel electric, setting his nerves on fire in an entirely different way, and it's pulling him out of the darkness he's felt so engulfed in for the last twenty four hours. the silence is deafening, and jack takes a breath to speak. the words never leave his mouth, and hanzo closes the gap between them and steals jack's breath straight from his lungs.

the kiss is _so soft_. it's so different, jack notes, from kissing gabe, and he's so grateful for that fact. hanzo is rougher in some ways, but softer in the ones that matter, and jack can't remember the last time he's had a kiss this good. jack inhales through his nose, slowly, and he brings his own hands up to loop around hanzo's shoulders. hanzo meets him there, deepening the kiss by tilting his head to one side. they don't part right away; they take their time, enjoying the taste of each other, and when they finally do part, jack tapers the kiss off until it's gentle brushes of lips.

melting into the kiss, through jack and into the ground, out of his mind and back into the earth, are his memories of gabe, here in gibraltar, on that night at the watchpoint. their first kiss is washing away, like wiping the chalkboard clean, and hanzo is here to paint new memories with the smoothest paintbrush jack has ever known.

maybe today isn't so bad, after all.

_"mira! you can't doze off like that in the middle of a damn mission. i know you're busy thinking about whatever you get lost in all the damn time, but you're just causing problems for the rest of us, and mostly for me."_

_gabe's words sting jack's ego, and he frowns, tilting his head to the side like he hadn't heard gabe correctly. "i didn't doze off, gabriel. i was focused on making sure you got out okay. you were falling behind and that's not something i'm going to let happen." gabe's words had sunken deeply into jack's chest. jack falling behind causes problems for gabe? isn't he worried about jack?_

_gabe approaches jack with his jaw set, like jack's words had offended him. he prods jack's chest, and that action alone has jack's nerves on fire. "i don't fuckin' need you to protect me, hombre. i can handle myself, and you'd better learn to handle yourself, too, or this damn organization is going to be the death of us both."_

when jack wakes, his heart is thumping in his chest. god, had gabe always been so forceful? his eyes squint in the morning light, and he gazes lazily, sleepily around his room. no hanzo. there's books, left open and page-down on the floor. there's some of gabe's old trinkets on his desk. clothes everywhere. nothing smells like hanzo or gabe anymore; this is all jack's. this is what he's left with. it feels like a cruel representation of himself-- mostly jack, a little bit of gabe. jack sighs. he feels so empty. all of this stress and upset and anger, and for what? gabe is alive. but jack doesn't feel happy about it. if anything, he's pissed off. he's coming to terms with it all. he can tell now, after twenty years, that he can make it alone. not that he wants to. hanzo's been too good to him. 

one of the things gabe has left behind on his desk is a small wooden figure of a skull, hand carved. jack can't remember if gabe made it or not, and maybe that should worry him a little. but it doesn't. in fact, he feels... nothing. staring intently at gabe's belongings make him only feel a deep resentment, like gabe's responsible for ruining all of jack's new relationships. and you know what? he is! he's done this to him. he's hurt jack so deeply that twenty years later, he's still torn up about it and unable to properly love anyone else. jack closes his eyes for a moment and he hears gabe's voice, _"mira!"_ so powerful, so aggressive. can he remember a time when gabe has sounded like anything else? even asking where jack has been, that precious memory he keeps to his chest so closely, his voice had been low and rough. like he owned jack. fuck, no one ever owned him. at least, not anymore.

so jack pushes the covers back on his bed and gets to his feet, sighing as he wakes up, stretches. his heart doesn't feel heavy. his chest doesn't ache for gabe. not anymore. jack fills a box with all of gabe's leftover belongings in his room, and when he gets to the little skull figure, he rolls it around in his palm, trying to remember its origins. it's hand carved... the sharp edges, the carelessness of some of the sides lead jack to believe that gabe had definitely made this. he'd never been very detail oriented, or very careful, for that matter. with anything. ever. and that included jack. he was willing to kill him, all because he believed he never cared. gabe never asked, never tried to fix anything. all he ever did was try to own jack, to keep him to himself. and jack fell into it, following him, searching for his approval, begging him to come back when he'd leave... it was a lot of bullshit, jack knows. and this... changes everything.

gabe had _never_ been good for jack, and he's starting to think that maybe losing him is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

jack drops the box off with jamison, telling him to use it for kindling, then meets hanzo to share tea. hanzo has some apology for leaving in the middle of the night. jack can't fault him. it's been a lot in one day. jack shares his epiphany this morning with hanzo, and the information seems to make him happy.

"jack," hanzo starts, setting down that tiny teacup, "i have always been honest with you, so i'll tell you... i do not think that your recovery will be instantaneous. i believe it will take you time to recover." can't argue with that. "what you've been through is hard on anyone, and you've pulled through in glorious ways. i'm surprised you've made it this far." he stops to meet jack's eyes, a moment that sends shivers up and down jack's spine. hanzo is so electrifying. "but i will be here. when you have bad... bad gabe days, i will be here. when you can't sleep, i'll be here to light more incense." small smiles from both parties. "and i can’t say it’ll be easy for me, jack. so i need you to be here, too.”

the wave of relief that flood’s jack’s system is so huge that he feels he might burst. he feels good now, but he knows hanzo is right. he still has night after night left of overwhelming fear and nightmares, not to mention the day when he has to face gabe himself. at least now, he knows— he won’t be alone for that. hanzo will watch his six. hanzo will be here for him through all the bullshit this is going to dig up for the two of them. and if hanzo can make that commitment, then so can jack.

a magician is nothing without his assistants. and maybe, jack is coming to realize, he never needed assistants in the first place. just someone important in the front row of his magic show, cheering him on, letting him know that he can succeed. he can come clean and he can start over. jack has one hell of a show to put on, but this time, the world won't see it. this time, his shows of grandeur and his spectacles that prove the impossible are for him, and no one else. the world had peace, but jack never has, and this is where he's going to make himself shine again. hanzo is patient, hanzo is ready, and hanzo tells jack, every day, how he's doing better. he's doing okay again. he's just needed someone here to show him the way.

magic. how fucking incredible.

**Author's Note:**

> so, i haven't written something this long in at least five years, and it mostly went un-beta'd, so begging your understanding.  
> this is a fill for the overwatch kink meme, and this goes out to my wonderful op, who kept me inspired and writing. i've come to think of them as hanzo!op, because they're so kind and kept pushing me to write more. this is all for YOU, love, thank you for the perfect prompt. <3  
> title and some elements of the story are owed to [this wonderful song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NP8W6m9dj-Q), which i listened to on repeat while trying to move past my years-long writers block.


End file.
